Names
by OliviaHills
Summary: Katz can't think of a name for his new business; Courage is more concerned with the fact that it's two in the morning.


Sorta evil Courage I guess? I don't know.

* * *

He took a glance at the clock, a bad idea on his part; because the idea that had been festering in his brain, a grand, devilish, money-making idea, shriveled up and was lost among the oceans of thought. Katz sighed, muttered a curse under his breath, and prayed that it would come once again after his mind was settled.

Two twenty-one, said the clock. When had he come out here? Twelve or one, eleven or two? That knowledge was also lost in his thoughts, and he was unable to remember a time. It had been a short sleep, and when he woke in the pitch darkness, there was too much on his mind, too many good ideas that weren't going to wait up for his lazy ass and up he went, moving carefully so as not to wake Courage.

The dry erase board in front of him was filled with scribbles, prototypes of names and businesses that seemed destined to propel him into affluence (not like he wasn't there already) when they were thoughts, but now seemed futile as he mulled them over in real life.

"Hmm…Katz. Katz—Katz Ka..no," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes and shaking his head back and forth as the long night's work crept silently closer, "Katz—"

"Katz Kondos?"

"I have that one down already," he looked over his shoulder; Courage stood in the doorway, the oversized shirt hanging off his shoulder and black hair sticking up erratically in different directions, "see? It's number thirty-four. If you're going to make a suggestion, make sure I haven't already thought of it, will you?"

He snorted, smoothing his hair back into place as he made his way towards Katz.

"Someone's a little grumpy this morning, huh?" Courage didn't take the redhead's comment to heart. There were many nights, not too different from this one, where Katz would stir at about twelve and stay up until dawn; if Courage woke up, he'd make himself available. And if he was of no use, then he'd simply watch Katz as ideas came to him, and the near wall-long dry erase board was filled with scribbles of the next, or maybe never, big business. He knew Katz had a lot of old money inherited from the 'unfortunate' passing of his parents, enough to test the waters in one area and move on to another if it didn't suit him.

"Do you want some coffee?" Courage stumbled toward the counter at the back of the room, "I know I do. You should probably get some, too. Maybe it'll make you less of a puss-pants."

Katz huffed, but did not turn his eyes away from the board, "If you're offering, then yes, I will take some."

"Black?"

"As always," he nodded. Suddenly the board had a new business idea on it, _Katz Kabs_, and he wasn't in the right mind to even realize that he had written it when speaking to Courage, "and make it quick, will you dearest? I can't be waiting all night."

"Puss-pants," Courage muttered under his breath, sneaking a quick frown at Katz, "I'm not your maid, and you're lucky I offered. You're even luckier it's not Cajun making you coffee."

The faux-philanthropist sighed, "Stop calling me puss-pants. It's not even a word," he lowered the marker towards blank space, stopped at the first line of the letter K, and turned Courage's way, "and why am I lucky it's not Emile making the coffee?"

The ex-farmhand began pouring the scalding liquid into two cups, stirring cream and sugar into one, while the other remained black. Carefully, so as not to spill anything on the hardwood floor, he made his way towards Katz's side of the room and sat the cups on a little coffee table.

"Trust me, you don't want to know what he puts in there," Courage shook his head, taking his place next to Katz and looking up at the board; the amount of K's were phenomenal, "I've been in the kitchen with him before."

"So you have. I'll talk to him about that," he wrapped a dark hand around the cup, took a sip, and set it down on the table, "and whatever is in his coffee, you didn't _stop_ him from putting it in?"

Courage shrugged, "I thought he knew something I didn't about your drink. After all, he's been working for you for what, five, six years, and you've been friends for ten? As compared to me whose only been here a couple months? He's got seniority on me, that's for sure."

"And yet you still make better beverages then him," Katz chuckled, looking into the dark liquid as if it held all the answers to his questions, "that's a damned feat, I'll give you that."

"That's also because I don't put pig's blood in the coffee." Courage muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"This cup is a little soggy," he cleared his throat, focusing his gaze between the board and Katz, "hey, that's one you don't have on there. Katz Kups."

He pointed to the upper corner of the board, and the name had been scribbled on there already, the Kups crossed out by three angry lines. Courage sighed, and set the cup down as Katz plopped down on a chair; the dark-skinned man let his eyes hover over the words, the names of future cash cows he would one day put into place, yet none were able to catch his gaze for long. All seemed shoddy, something a weak-minded person would come up with, not ideas for a billionaire con-artist. At least not ones that would make a lot of money.

"Maybe you should sleep on it," Courage stood behind him; his hands, calloused and rough from years of working on a farm found their way to Katz's shoulders, and the business tycoon could've went to sleep right then and there as they kneaded his tense muscles, "things are always clearer in the morning."

"No. If I were to do that, I would have to start fresh," he sighed, eyelids drooping down just for a second before Katz opened his eyes wide; good lord, either the child had a future as a masseuse, or _he_ was really just that sleepy, "ideas come and go, you know. The one's I have now may not be the same when I rise."

Courage laughed, shaking his head; so damn stubborn. Katz fell silent again as Courage pressed the palms of his fingers into the other man's back.

"Go to sleep." He leaned in and kissed the side of Katz's neck, "please?"

He shook his head, "No. Not until I can think of a damn name for this _damn_ business."

"Fine," Courage stood, snatching the marker from Katz's hands before the man could protest, "you want a name?" The smell of marker fluid hit him as he opened the cap, and he scribbled something on the board, dab-smack in the middle.

"There."

Katz squinted his eyes; he looked at the board, looked at the name for some time, looked at Courage, back at the board and the name. The business tycoon nodded.

"It's got a ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Exactly. And the best part?" Courage leaned in close, hovering his mouth over Katz's listening ears, "it doesn't start with K."

"Hmm. That_ is_ the best part," he stood, wrapping an arm around Courage's waist as the pair took their leave, "I think it's time to go to bed."

"But I'm not tired."

The con artist laughed, "Did I say anything about sleeping?"

* * *

"Courage's Coffee, huh?" Cajun marveled at the new store, black glasses glinting in the strong sunlight, "I like it. S'got a good feel."

Aubin stood next to the Creole man, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun like a makeshift visor, the other clutching a freshly brewed espresso, "Better question is how you even convinced Katz to fund this."

"I have my ways, Mr. Le-Quack," Courage sent a sly wink Cajun's way; the man snorted, and gave him two thumbs up, "Cornelius is a lot easier to talk to when he's tired."

"And horny."

"Hey, you said it, not me." Courage shrugged.

The trio stood outside of the shop that took residence downtown; inside, business was going strong as the morning rush came to a peak. The five tables inside were all in use, customers were filing in and out at the same rate, and behind the register, Jean Bon made short conversation with consumers while his wife made the drinks. Five days within opening and Katz already began planning for Courage Coffee to become the next big restaurant chain.

"Huh. Next time he's up in the mornin', give me a shout-out," Cajun patted Courage on the back, "maybe I can run that fried shrimp business by him one more time."

"I'll see what I can do. Although even I'm a bit iffy about you having your own restaurant," he looked at Cajun, shaking his head, "I know what you put in your food."

Le-Quack snorted, taking a sip of the coffee and gazing into the clear sky.

"You'll be fine long as you don't eat the meat," he took another swig, "or drink the coffee."

* * *

My headcanon is that Courage has a little bit of a Scottish accent from living with Muriel and interacting with her side of the family. Also, Katz is black in my head. And his name is Cornelius.


End file.
